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hot cheetos - bosh g, 3200 tre & k.e. (sf) lyrics

[intro]
jew3lz

[verse 1: 3200 tre]
hmm, i don’t think you know how ice feel
you don’t listen when i talk, so you don’t know how i feel
hmm, i can’t sign until they provide the right deal
that n*gga told for no reason, the judge gave him life still
hmm, i got a hold on hoes, i gotta rose my gold
i got one hand, that’s for my bl!ck, you gotta hold my phone
i’ll kick a b*tch out if she don’t know my song
ri sh*t ’bout to go platinum with no robots on
hmm, i done stepped on so much dope, i need a shoe deal
a hundred k is not enough, i need like two mill’
hmm, my b*tch don’t got no attitude, she kinda too chill
hmm, for me to start my day off right, i need a blue pill
hmm, you can call me adidas, i got some stripes on me
my life lit, so i can’t leave without my pipe on me
might be with blade, but that don’t mean i got no knife on me
you gotta buy the case, you can’t come get no pint from it

[verse 2: bosh g]
i got a son, i made her milwaukee for the bucks
and since a young boy, i ain’t never been broke again
i hate a naggin’*ass ho, b*tch, you got me ‘noid again
i sent them packs up, they sent them back, ‘void the send
i’m sellin’ kid, i’ma cry if i can’t get my toy in
now i adapt to my environment, i’m incognito
these hoes tryna read my mind, but i’m magneto
i break a b*tch and leave a b*tch, i’m that evil
i’m sh*ttin’ on these n*ggas, i’m a seagal
i still eat top ramen with the hot cheetos
i might get head, but i will not bend her
but if i do, it’s gon’ be a fender bender
i got hoes on the floor, i feel like rent*a*center
before she get a read sent, i’ll be home for dinner
i’m always with my brothers, we’re not contenders
and all we do is send shots, we some block benders
[verse 3: k.e.]
ayy, look, b*tch, i’m locked in
them n*ggas had the lo’, they did not spin
you had thirty on you but i swept with some that hold ten
put ’em in a box, before that, we boxed ’em in
said the rolls on the block, sh*t, it’s hot again
ayy, i got motion like a tight end
we use guns, we don’t post, we know we not them
and if he can’t up a dub, sh*t, he’s not him
fully’s a chop, tell him no, yeah, they ain’t gon’ try them
cook a n*gga, catch him lackin’, we gon’ fry ’em
yeah, you fine but lil’ bae, you always lyin’
head tap, ain’t no need for no sirens
we outside and you b*tch n*ggas hidin’
hot cheetos from the clip, yeah, they flyin’
all that chollo while these goofy n*ggas dyin’
all that chollo while these goofy n*ggas dyin’

[outro]
jew3lz

- bosh g 3200 tre k e sf lyrics

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